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I needed a small break from Women’s Studies so I wrote this. I intended it to be a quick, one page stroker, but apparently I can’t do that. Two pages was the smallest I could manage.

This story contains Brother/Sister Incest.

A special thanks to Skye4Life for her editing and feedback.



-a woman’s bedroom or private room

-commonly used as a term for a style of intimate photography

*** *** ***


Scanning the set, I checked and double checked the placements of the furniture and decorations. It all came down to the details. One small thing out of place could detract from the photographs. If every details was perfect, it would all come together, enhancing the final image. It was something that had taken me a long time to figure out, but experience bred perfection of one’s craft.

My life of photography started as a fluke really. When I was nineteen, I had a girlfriend who was obsessed with garage sales in the valley, and on one particular trip I found an old 35mm camera that she insisted on buying for me. Developing film for it was expensive and not very practical in the burgeoning digital age, but she loved to have her picture taken, and she was a real beauty.

She had that kind of presence that refused to take a bad picture. I began to love photographing her, and after a lot of trial and error I became very good at it. When she eventually left me, and all I had left was a camera and the joy of photography. When the heartbreak ended I began taking odd jobs doing Prom photos for parents and bar mitzvahs and the like, and Tyler Denning Photography was born.

Looking back, the years seemed to blow past me until I was where I am now, a twenty nine year old living in Pasadena, and a well known name in the industry with almost six months of solid bookings. I don’t know what ever happened to my old girlfriend, but despite the heartbreak, she was the reason for the life I had now.

After taking a few sample shots of the space, I checked them on my computer that I had set up in the corner. The lighting looked good on the tests I’d taken, and everything looked ready to go. With everything in place, I climbed the stairs back up to the main floor to grab a beer.

I tried to avoid drinking on the job, but today was supposed to be my day off after all. Weekends are where my bread is buttered, but my Mondays are supposed to be sacrosanct. Here I was though, prepping my home studio to take some professional photos for my little sister. The things we do for family. All things considered, I didn’t think she would mind me wetting my whistle.

I cracked open a cold bottle with my key chain, while thinking about Emily. It was still hard to believe that my little sister was getting married. The same little girl who called me Tigger because she couldn’t pronounce Tyler. The one who always followed me around, and wanted me to help marry off her barbies to my old G.I. Joes. Our five year age gap left a lot of distance between us, but I always thought it was so cute how she wanted to be around me. Now, that little girl was all grown up and getting ready to walk down the aisle.

As soon as the cold glass touched my lips, the doorbell rang, immediately followed by an incessant banging. That must be her. Taking a long pull from my beer, I went to let her in.

“Hold your horses!” I yelled as the banging continued.

“Jeez, what took you so long?” My sister Emily asked, stumbling inside just as the door opened. “This shit weighs a ton!”

She quickly brushed past me to set her things down. Emily’s small stature was overwhelmed by all the things she was carrying. She had a large black makeup case, a shoe box, a gigantic garment bag along with her purse and a couple smaller bags. The primal male inside wanted to ask why she brought so much stuff for a photo shoot, but as a photographer, I’d been here before. Instead, I just gave her a hand.

“You should have called me when you pulled up,” I said, helping her drape the garment bag over the back of a chair. “I would’ve came out to help you.”

“It’s okay,” she said, finally taking the chance to look at me as she rubbed her sore arms. “It wasn’t that bad I guess. Thanks so much for doing this. I know it’s a little last minute, but I was thinking, and I wanted to get some good pictures before hand. On the day, there won’t really be much of an opportunity do it right, ya know?”

“I understand completely,” I said gesturing to put her at ease. “I’ve been to plenty of weddings, and while it’s nice to have a photographer there, there’s only so much you can do about the lighting and distractions.”

“You’re awesome,” she sighed, giving me a tired hug.

“So are you,” I said moving to return her hug.

“Not the hair!” she squealed, tensing up at the slightest touch. “I just spent over an hour paying to get it this perfect.”

Mindful of her hair, I gently placed my hands around her waist for a brief Aksaray Escort moment before she pulled away to make sure she had all of her things.

Leaning against the back of my couch, I watched her. She was right, her hair was perfect. Soft dark brown curls fell perfectly down her shoulders to just below her breasts, framing her beautiful heart shaped face.

It had been a few weeks since I had seen her last and whatever diet she was doing was really working. Even in her jeans and top she looked great. She had never been out of shape, but looking at her now…her enhanced form was noticeable.

“Well, I have a set made up downstairs in the studio if you want to get ready.” I offered, hefting the large garment bag gently.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said wryly. “First it’s let’s go down to my basement so I can take pictures of you,” she began, “then it’s “put the lotion on your skin!”

“You know me too well,” I replied dryly, walking away from her with her dress over my shoulder.

Emily took a long time getting ready for the shoot, so while she changed I hung out watching a little ESPN to catch up on what I’d missed on Sunday and worked on my beer.

“Can you help just a little with these laces?” she asked as I came back down the stairs. “It’s the only thing I can’t reach.”

“Sure,” I said, setting my beer down by my computer.

The laces she spoke of were for the back of her dress. It was a corset style top with a sweetheart neckline that dipped gently into her cleavage. She didn’t require much tightening, it was just snugging up the intricate lacing and tying it off that she couldn’t manage on her own. Once I was finished she gave a little spin to show off for me as she giggled.

“How do I look?” she asked smiling. “Every time I try this on, I feel like a princess.”

She was all done up beautifully in her white wedding dress and veil. Her make up was perfectly applied and she looked breathtaking with an air of innocence and elegance. She was by far one of the best brides I had the pleasure of photographing.

“You do look very princess-like,” I commented, reaching for my camera to get this show started.

I put on some music and walked her through some poses, snapping shot after shot of her as she moved. She was a little awkward when we started, not being entirely comfortable being the sole focus of a camera. To help her relax, I began talking to her and catching up. I had found long ago that even simple conversation could ease a nervous subject.

“So has James seen the dress yet?” I asked.

“Not a chance,” Emily replied. “I’m not superstitious, but I just want there to be a wow factor.”

“I get that,” I said, continuing to snap away. “You must be getting pretty excited right about now. You’re at less than a week to go.”

“I am pretty excited, but it also feels surreal at the same time. If that makes any sense,” she said turning for me.

“I’ve heard that sentiment before, many times,” I said. “So where do you guys plan on honeymooning?”

The talk helped settle her nerves and we took our time. An hour later we were finished and we had everything we wanted.

“I’ll load these onto my computer and we can take a look.” I told her, finally lowering my camera.

“Do you have any more beer?” she asked. “I could really go for one of those right now.”

While the photos uploaded, I ran upstairs and grabbed two cold bottles from my refrigerator before heading back down stairs. When I got back, I cracked off the tops with my key-chain and handed her one.

I sat in front of my computer and Emily stood behind me peering over my shoulder while I flipped through the shots. With the way she looked, there were hardly any bad photos, but every time we came upon one that was exceptional I pulled it from the group to save in a separate file for later.

I don’t normally let people see me go through this process. For private shoots, I like to do some slight editing beforehand and show them only the best of the group, but she was Emily. I’ve always had a hard time saying no to her about anything, even since we were kids.

“Are you sure you want to keep this one?” I asked, thinking that she was joking.

“What’s wrong with it?” she asked. “I think I look cute.”

“You look like a goober,” I laughed. I had caught her making a funny face to me after I had told her to hold the same pose for the sixth time.

“Goobers can be cute,” she defended. “I just want to keep that one. It’s not like I’m going to put it in the wedding album…Maybe.”

“Whatever you say. They’re your photos,” I said, saving the picture.

“Have you ever done Boudoir shots for the other brides you’ve photographed?” Emily asked as we were nearing the end of her photos. The question was a little out of left field, but I just thought she was curious about my work.

“All the time,” I replied, honestly.

“Really?” She asked, getting Aksaray Escort Bayan a little excited. “Can I see some?”

“Nope,” I said flatly.

“Come on!” she whined, trying to get to me. “Don’t be like that!”

“I can’t. After I’m done with the editing, I give them their prints and a digital copy and then I delete them,” I told her.

“What self-respecting dude does something like that?” she asked, questioning my manliness like usual.

“The kind that likes the extra money that comes from vigilant discretion,” I replied.

She was quiet for a few moments while I pulled up one of her best shots and began adjusting the contrast.

“Do you think you could take a couple of me?” Emily asked slightly nervous.

“You want me to take bedroom photos of you?” I asked, thinking that this was just another one of her jokes.

“I’ve been thinking about getting some done as like a wedding present for James, but I just can’t stand the thought of some stranger taking pictures of me like that,” Emily explained.

“But asking your brother is easier?” I asked, not sure how I felt about this.

“Umm. Yeah!” she said as if it was obvious. “Some weirdo taking pictures of me in my underwear and never knowing if he’s sharing them with someone else, or god forbid jerking of to them…ew, no thank you.”

“You seem to have put a lot of thought into that,” I commented while continuing to work on her picture.

“We don’t have to make it weird or anything, all you have to do is take a few pictures,” Emily said hopefully.

“I guess we can do that,” I said, trying to maintain my professionalism. “I don’t have a set made for that right now though. You can come by…Thursday, I think,” I said thinking about my schedule.

“Can’t we just use your room?” Emily asked surprising me. “I’ve seen it. It’s as nice as they come.”

She wasn’t wrong. I had this fetish for antique furniture and old world style, and with my success, I was able to incorporate that into my home design. It did feel a little weird though, the thought of taking racy pictures of her in my own bedroom. With the sets I constructed for the others, it helped keep things feeling professional. A separation of the intimate nature of the subject matter, and my job as the photographer.

“Why not.” I finally said, taking the last long swig from my beer.

With my acquiescence, her smile lit up nervously. Grabbing my camera, we climbed back up to the first floor and then up to my room on the second. My four-poster bed was a little disarrayed, but after fixing the pillows and the fluffy white duvet, the bed looked perfectly presentable. After a quick scan of the space, I swiped all of my things off of the end tables into their draws.

I stared for a few more moments trying to see if I needed to do anything else, but my bedroom really was a good place for photos. With all the soft natural light flowing in through the light curtains on the large bay doors to my balcony, the room looked pristine and perfect.

“So how does this work?” Emily asked, as outwardly nervous as I felt inside. “Do I just undress?”

“Basically,” I said trying to keep my cool. “I’ll start taking pictures as you do, so don’t rush yourself,” I guided.

“Help me with my laces?” she asked, turning from me.

My fingers fumbled as I undid the delicate knot at the back of her dress and loosened her laces. As soon as they were loose, I stepped away and pressed myself into work mode. I forced myself to stay clinical as she slowly, inch by inch, let her strapless dress slide from her body to land in a pool by her feet.

This was going to be harder than I thought. Her body was amazing. Underneath her dress, she was wearing all white lingerie. Micro fishnet stockings attached to a garter belt with extremely sexy lace panties that left most of her ass exposed and a matching demi-cup bra. She looked every inch like a blushing bride while standing there shyly with her rosy cheeks.

After involuntarily clearing my throat, I had her repeat her undressing several times, having her adjust her posture and shooting from different angles. By the time that part was done, I could feel my own cheeks heating up.

“I think that’s enough for that,” I said, trying not to stare directly at her. “Why don’t you try a few poses on the bed.”

“Whatever you say boss,” she said smiling. I don’t know why, but she seemed to find this whole thing more amusing with my discomfort. “How do the pictures look?”

“I think they’re coming out nicely,” I said, focusing on the digital display on my camera and not directly on her body.

As she climbed onto my bed, I continued taking pictures and let her choose a few of her own poses before I directed her into some that the other women had preferred. We hadn’t been at it for more than ten minutes, but it was already getting hard to focus.

“So, do you take all of these brides up to your bedroom?” Escort Aksaray Emily asked cheekily, flipping her hair out as she rolled onto her stomach to face me.

“You would be the first,” I said smirking, her unique sense of humor pulling me away from things that I should not have been thinking.

“Messeur Denning!” she said in mock surprise. “How scandalous!”

“Hardly,” I said wryly

“So, all these nearly naked brides?” she began, moving to another pose. “You ever sleep with one?”

“No,” I said awkwardly. “Can you put your arm up again…Just like that.”

“No?” She asked skeptical about my aversion to her topic. “I think he doth protest too much.” she sang.

“I never have,” I said honestly. “I’ve been hit on, sure. There was one,” I mused, “she was simply stunning and it took everything I had to say no.”

Just remembering Candice was a bad move in this position. She had been beautiful in a way that most women would never be. She had been so insistent, so seductive and tempting. I hadn’t been lying when I said that it took everything to resist her. It was one of those moments in my life that I hoped I wouldn’t end up regretting. The mere memory of that day was effecting my cock in the worst kind of way.

“Was she prettier than me?” Emily asked, almost sounding jealous.

I was taken off guard by her question. This situation was hard enough to handle as it was, I didn’t know how to respond to this question with her lying there in her sexy underwear on my bed. I was already having thoughts about her that no brother should ever have about his baby sister.

You’re umm…” I began before taking a steadying breath and continuing in a brotherly tone. “You’re very pretty.”

“Pretty?” she asked flatly letting her arm drop.

“Very pretty,” I corrected her reassuringly.

“That’s it?” She asked, her mood souring. “I’m just very pretty.”

“What?” I asked, confused at seeing her anger beginning to rise. “What’s wrong with being pretty?”

“What’s wrong with it?” she asked sitting up in the bed. “I’ve been working myself ragged for the last three months. I can’t remember the last time I tasted real food. I’m in the best shape of my life and wearing the sexiest lingerie I’ve ever owned, getting sexy pictures taken for my future husband that are supposed to make his blood boil at the very sight of them…and I’m just pretty?” she finished angrily.

Somewhere during her tirade she had gotten from the bed and was now standing directly in front of me, looking menacingly as she stared up at me.

“Well?” she asked, looking fiercely into my eyes.

She was so close to me it was dangerous. My erection had grown, and if she moved an inch closer, it would be pressing her in the stomach. She really seemed angry though, this really meant something to her, so I decided to tell her the honest truth.

“I can honestly say that you are the hottest thing to ever be in my bedroom,” I said, using her surprised reaction as a distraction to reach down below her eye line and readjust my embarrassing problem.

Her eyes seeming to light up at my words, and she stared at me for a long moment before returning to her spot on the bed. Without a word, she went back to posing for me and I proceeded to snap away with the pictures.

Something was different about her now. Before, there was a slight air of nervousness, but now she seemed to have more…attitude. More sex appeal flowing out of her like some unseen force. Her posing became slightly more provocative without being distasteful. I found myself not even uttering a word of advice as she hypnotized me. My throbbing cock was near forgotten in my pants and I felt caught up in her lusty gaze.

During one of her poses with her back to the camera, she unsnapped her strapless bra and thew it away, leaving her back sexily bare. I felt my blood rising as I watched her, my shutter flashing faster, snapping pictures as quickly as I could.

As she changed her position to face me, her arms crossed over her breasts, shielding them from my view teasingly. With every adjustment she made I hoped for a slip, something to let me catch the briefest view of her bare breasts on my film

“Tell me how good I look,” she demanded, her husky voice shattering the silence.

It was then that I noticed that hypnotic smell that had lulled me into a trance. It must have started out ever so subtle, but now it was thick and heady, and unmistakable. It was the smell of a woman’s arousal.

Letting her arms slowly fall from her chest, she revealed her glorious breasts to me. With a small flicker of a glance down to my crotch, she slipped off the edge of the bed and crawled to me on her knees across the plush white carpet.

I put all my considerable effort into keeping my focus on the job, snapping pictures of her until she was right in front of me, looking up with a devilish look in her eyes and her plump lip bitten between her white teeth.

Her hand reached up and her fingers gently rested on the bulge in my pants causing me to gasp. Out of reflex, I tried to take a step back, only to realize that the wall was right behind me. Her hand slowly caressed my cock as she stared up at me, almost daring me to stop her.

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